A Minor Issue
by sizaki
Summary: Harry's return to Hogwarts after the defeat of the dark lord heralds a series of devastating changes that will challenge the Boy-Who-Conquered in very new ways. Mpreg, slash, foul language, and sexual harassment.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Due to the limited amount of space provided I think it's necessary to include a few things here that I was unable to in the summary. **Firstly,** this story is not entirely cannon. As it is fanficiton I have taken liberties with the way the original story ended and manipulated it to fit my needs. **Secondly,** this is not a purely sexual story. Draco is not going to meet Harry, decide he wants to jump him, then bam all of a sudden they're in love. Their relationship will progress like a normal one (well a normal one wherein the protagonist is being constantly sexually harassed) and as such will be very, very long and slow to develop. If that's not your cup of tea- hey- no one is going to force you to drink it. **Thirdly**, I am human. I will make mistakes. Many of which are pointlessly stupid and obvious. Sorry. Finally, this initial chapter will be very short. It's just a precaution to test the waters of and see how the style of writing is received. Without further ado, please enjoy A Minor Issue.

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way, shape or form own the Harry Potter franchise or its characters. They belong to a certain J.K Rowling. Any character used in this fan fiction are used purely for fan play and do not reflect upon the actual story in any way nor do they the make any profit for me. The lazy bastards. That being said, the plot _does _belong to myself and hate the HARLOT. The plot is our shiny. If you touch our shiny we will poke you in the eye.

**Ch. 1 Diagon Alley**

Black unkempt hair was all that appeared visible above a dusty, onyx hued comforter, the only indication that a life form existed beneath said blanket. A sudden grunt from an unpleasant dream marked the lump atop the bed's surface as male. He shifted slightly as a creak announced the opening of his chamber door, trying desperately to ignore the scuffling sounds of a tiny creature bearing a tea tray entering.

"Kreacher, I don't want to," a cold voice stated flatly, it's harsh effect dimmed slightly by its muffled, slightly pathetic tone. As if realizing this, the male's voice continued in a louder tone, "Go away Kreacher."

"Master told Kreacher to wake him so Master can go to Diagon Alley today," the creature insisted patiently, more than accustomed to Harry's reluctance. "Master said, 'No matter what Kreacher, wake me tomorrow, I have to get my shopping done soon.' So Kreacher listens."

With a forced resilience, Harry disentangled his arm from its cloth confines and drew the covers down. He winced at the sudden intrusion of light provided courtesy of the open curtains across his messy chamber. His half closed eyes danced uninterestedly amongst the myriad of objects that littered his dark carpet; empty fire whiskey bottles, broken quills, and the various old, leather-clad spell books that he had consumed religiously over the summer.

"Thanks, Kreacher," he muttered, drawing himself into a sitting position and accepting the cup of tea the small elf held ready for him.

The house elf bowed himself out, muttering constantly about cleaning the room later.

Harry set the tea aside after a hearty sip, throwing the rest of the covers away to reveal the emerald green cotton of his pajama bottoms.

"Great," he mumbled cynically, glaring at the fabric. Sweat had glued them insistently to his thin legs, emphasizing the strange knobby knees he had inherited from his father. The sheets around him were drenched similarly, making them peel rather reluctantly from the arm still half-submerged in cotton. He plopped backward again sighing, one hand placed firmly over his eyes. Once again, piercing orbs of an indescribable color swam across his vision, a pair of pale pink lips curving upwards into a taunting sneer.

"What...the...fuck?"

-- Diagon Alley --

Harry stood calmly in Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions, it's owner bustling around him with pins dangling precariously from the corner of her mouth.

"Into your seventh year then, dearie," she questioned, flicking her wand at a pile of blue material. Harry nodded curtly, wondering how she could be doing all that she was and still find time to pester him with annoying questions. Realizing she couldn't see him, he elaborated with this utterly eloquent statement:

"Yes."

She nodded knowingly, as if the one word had spoken volumes about him.

Harry rolled his eyes in a very subtle manner and scoffed softly, attempting to tune out the woman's droning.

Just about the time his hand had begun inching towards his wand, a small bell sounded, marking someone's entrance into the shop. Harry's head jerked up guiltily, his brilliant green eyes brimming with anger.

"Well, well Potter, don't you look...different."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Onward to chapter two- longer and less... mysterious.

**Ch. 2 Diagon Alley**

After the war, Draco suffered no revelations. He hadn't suddenly gone soft, or become an upstanding citizen. Certainly not, he was a Malfoy, and prissy apologies and lifestyle changes were simply not his thing. Nevertheless, when he entered the wizarding boutique, he couldn't help but pity his rival just a little bit.

He sighed, pale skinny hands pushing inside his dark grey robes, the usual smirk in place. "Well, well, Potter, don't you look..." Steel eyes travelled down the boy's body before he continued, "...different."

Harry's blood pounded slightly as the familiar voice drifted to his ears.

It was true. He did look different. The last Malfoy had seen him, his untidy hair was shorter, his face unshaven, and his general style, well... Different. Harry hadn't really thought much on the changes as they had occurred, they had come naturally, almost like and old friend, coming to comfort him when he least expected help. But now, even as he stood, looking ridiculous in his unfinished robes, the reality of his appearance hit him. His raven hair now hung slightly past his shoulders, it's weight managing to pull it into a style that, at least, didn't defy gravity. His black rimmed eyes, though never exactly innocent, now held a sort of detached indifference that most found mildly disturbing. Even his overall choice of clothing had seemed to alter, his appearance that of a boy stuck in permanent mourning.

And while Harry could never truly bring himself to self-mutilation, (that would be as good as stomping on his parents sacrifices), he seemed to have found a new love for muggle body art; piercings and tattoos specifically. Thus far, he had managed to pierce his ear numerous times, puncture two new holes in his lip, and now bore a tattoo of two black roses circling his belly button: Lilly's, James', Sirius', Remus', Fred's, Albus', and Severus' names following the stems paths.

All in all, you could say he appeared a new person.

The boy's gaze rose slowly, travelling Malfoy's body in much the same manner as his rival before him. "And you...don't," he commented, forcing himself not to think of his dream, or how much his enemy's eyes matched the colour of the key player in that dream.

Draco shrugged one shoulder, keeping his silence with a meaningful look at the woman crouched at Harry's hem.

"...have a friend of mine, her son's in his second year... Arleen Murdock. My friend, obviously, not her son, who'd name a boy Arleen? No, his name's Burt- Barney... or, well, something that starts with a 'B'," Madame Malkin twittered on, oblivious to her new customer.

Harry stood, staring blankly at Malfoy, wishing he could come up with something witty, perhaps insulting to say to him. As it was, it took all he had to keep his dream, and his breakfast, down where it should be.

Draco reached a hand up to scratch the side of his head as Malkin rambled on. "Woman, do you ever shut up," he questioned sincerely, noticing that not once, since he had begun visiting the tiny shop, had he ever seen her mouth close for more than a second.

"I- well I-" she blustered, rising with a pink face to stare at him. "Never! In all my years!" she cried suddenly, turning on her heel to look imploringly at Harry. "Can you believe," she questioned incredulously, her eyes wide. She waited a few seconds, perhaps hoping he would come to her aid. When he didn't even look at her, his gaze trained fixedly on Malfoy, she glared at him, making her way angrily around him and into the adjoining room where a small girl waited nervously with her mother. All the while she worked around the girl, they could hear her muttering.

"...the boy-who-conquered...hmph...the-boy-who-needs-more-manners if you ask me..."

"No, I suppose she doesn't," Harry concluded for Draco, not really speaking to anyone in particular, despite the fact that his gaze never shifted from the blondes.

"YOU'VE FINNISHED, POTTER!" the robe maker snapped from the other room, having heard the boys conclusion. "...that boy has changed so much! Poor dear... still, that's no excuse..." she continued to battle with herself as Harry place the fourteen galleons he owed her on the counter beside the dais.

He sighed, stepping down from the raised platform to stand before his nemesis.

Draco chuckled with his usual velvety smoothness despite the somewhat awkward situation. Not that a Malfoy was ever awkward, but anything other than exchanging insults with the darker haired boy automatically dubbed the moment strange.

"Clearly not."

Harry's eyes travelled the length of the blonde's body, attempting to squash the feeling of embarrassment at Malfoy's height advantage.

"Clearly," he breathed, feeling unusually flustered. An awkward grin later, he had side-stepped the boy and strode out, his hand brushing Draco's side briefly.

Once outside, he gulped air with a greed that suggested he had been submerged in water for the length of time he was inside Madame Malkin's. A little of the old Harry gleamed in his eyes as they turned quizzically to the tiny boutique shoved rudely between the ___Apothecary_shop and Eyelopes.

If Draco were the type to have warm-hearted emotions, he'd probably be giddy right about now, but...Malfoy's didn't suffer giddiness. So, let's just call it sexual frustration. The blonde moved over to the display window to watch the boy's retreating figure.

"He looks almost decent now..." the Slytherin mumbled, not about to admit that Potter was more that 'decent', he was damn gorgeous, but he was still a Gryffindork, and even with the war over and his overbearing father in Azkaban, Draco simply couldn't start seducing Gryffindors.

He moved to press his weight against the frame of the window.

"Hmm... I've already shagged all of Slytherin... Well, the ones that don't look like trolls. And most of Ravenclaw. Touching a Hufflepuff is obviously out of the question, which leaves..." Draco shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the window. "Oi, woman! A you almost finished in there? I need a robe fitted!"

Potter shrugged, ignoring the fact that his hand could still feel the heat of Draco's body through his robes. "Weird..." he grumbled, turning on his heel to continue his trek down the narrow road that split Diagon Alley. His eyes scanned the shops briefly, checking for anything he may have missed, when they fell upon the stunning, purple You-no-Poo poster that marked Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

Harry's eyes remained trained on the building for some time, attempting to find some excuse to drift away. He hadn't seen George since the night of Fred's death. The death he felt responsible for, just as he felt responsible for the deaths of anyone who had met their end at the hands of Tom Riddle.

He sighed to himself.

With a new found resolution, he moved his feet forward, approaching the vibrant building with a purposeful stride. Harry stepped in, gazing at the intense hues of the many packages that lined the wall. Perhaps it was just the lighting, but to Harry, the contents seemed to have lost some of their energy, some of their vibrancy.

"George?" he called tentatively, unsure that he would even be there.

Soon, a head adorned with coppery red hair popped out of the back room.

"Harry!" George greeted cheerfully, wincing as a loud 'bang' sounded from the back room. Groaning, the loan twin disappeared behind the curtain, all the while muttering about too much 'bobu' pus. A slight pause ensued where Harry paced awkwardly about the shop, his shaking hand brushing dust from the older packages in a nervous gesture.

Several loud bangs later, George reappeared, his usual snarky grin in place.

"Sorry 'bout that, Harry." His brilliant blue eyes scanned over the teen, taking in his appearance. "Become a magnet, have you?" he joked, his eyes lingering on his piercings. "And that hair!" he exclaimed sounding flamboyantly queer, "Bill would be sooo proud."

"I'm sure he would," Harry grinned, his generally dark face lighting with humour. "And you," he cried, allowing himself to be swept into the energetic twins' tornado of insanity. "Just look at your clothes! That purple does wonders for your complexion, dear. And with your matching skills..." he took a significant look at George's eggplant purple business suit/ bright orange top hat combination. "Dobbies across the nation are cheering you on!"

The Weasley took a bow, grinning sheepishly at an invisible crowd.

"Thank you! This is a dream come true! I'd like to thank the International House Elf Fashion Help and Hints Academy, and my muse, Buddah."

After a hearty length of chuckling, the two proceeded to drift aimlessly about the room, laughing hysterically at the pranks Harry had missed whilst in hiding and George's antics for the next few hours, the air friendly and relaxed.

"Oh, here's one me and old Fred did; the pecking peanuts. We got the idea from the jumping snakes in the ol' peanut jar trick, but with these babies..." He popped open the vibrant, yellow jar, laughing jovially as a swarm of peanuts chased Harry about the shop, reprimanding him half-heartedly through gales of laughter when the brave boy-who-conquered smashed into shelves of merchandise in an attempt to escape the killer legumes.

When George had finally called off the prank, and Harry regained his breath, he looked up at the red head cautiously, his voice cautious when he spoke.

"Er...George? A-about Fred... I'm s-"

"So help me Harry, if you finish that sentence, I'll curse you so your nose hair never stops growing." the twin interrupted in a threatening tone, waving his wand under the boys nose menacingly.

"But it's my-" he tried again, knowing that somehow, George just didn't understand.

"Harry! Stop...right now!" he sighed, looking suddenly world- weary. "He died. It happens. But the entire wizarding world was helped saved thanks to that... you can't ask for a better death. And you, how the hell can you blame a freak building collapse on yourself? Honestly, the old girl was bound to get back at one of us eventually... everything we put that school through. We had it coming." he chuckled, his gaze distant as he remembered a long ago prank. "No worries, Harry. You're still my favourite evil killing hero!"

"Thanks, mate..." Harry muttered quietly, pacing the room again to distract himself. "Oh, and er... George?"

George turned to gaze quizzically at his guest, his head tilted slightly to the side in question.

"About that...'bobu' pus, uh-" he trailed off, peering around the edge of the wall into the back room curiously.

With a wicked grin, George shoved him forcefully into the room.

"OH MY G--!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way, shape or form own the Harry Potter franchise or its characters. They belong to a certain J.K Rowling. Any character used in this fan fiction are used purely for fan play and do not reflect upon the actual story in any way nor do they the make any profit for me. The lazy bastards. _Likewise, the book 1-2-3 Magic: Effective Discipline for Children 2-12 belongs to a certain Mr. Thomas W. Phelan, whose book title I only borrowed because I it had the word 'magic in it'._ That being said, the plot _does _belong to myself and hate the HARLOT. The plot is our shiny. If you touch our shiny we will poke you in the eye. Seriously, dude... in the eye. _Both of them._

**Ch. 3 Return to Platform 9 3/4**

Harry gazed contentedly at the billowing smoke pumping from the scarlet Hogwarts Express. A tiny smile graced his lips while his head filled with thoughts of Hogwarts, reuniting with his friends, and most of all, of seeing Ron and Hermione again. He had gotten in contact with them for the perhaps the second time since the downfall of the Dark Lord the previous day to arrange their meeting on the platform. A sudden rush of nostalgia threatened to overthrow his senses briefly before he pushed them back and gathered his things, stepping into the rush of bodies before him. He pushed his way through the bustling crowd easily, ignoring the stares he got as he lugged his trunk behind him. Harry set a course for the train, his head bent and face determined as he dodged elbows, trunks, and animals. He was almost there, within reach when-

"Harry," a male voice called excitedly, followed shortly by a female voice echoing it. He turned reluctantly to see a familiar brunette male and slightly shorter blonde female approaching him.

"Hello, Neville. Luna," he greeted them warmly. Well, as warmly as he could manage to muster. The trio fell into a comfortable chat, commenting on everything from their changed appearances to the latest Quidditch matches in Norway.

Six yards away and unbeknownst to Harry, a lean body was pressed leisurely against one of the towering brick columns, it's steel gray eyes boring into his frame. The watcher sighed, shaking his head slightly at himself in bitter amusement. The school year hadn't even begun and Draco had already targeted his prey. He tilted his head to one side, questioning himself for the first time since he'd encountered Harry at Madame Malkin's on his sudden change of feelings toward him. As he watched the object of his interest talk with what appeared to be Longbottom and Loony Lovegood, he began to contemplate the reasoning behind his sudden change of heart. Several minutes and many frowns later, Draco has surmised that his feelings towards Potter hadn't really changed at all. He deducted that he did still, in fact, hate the boy-who-conquered as much as always, and still wished to see his ultimate demise. He just wanted to fuck him, too.

Happy with his conclusion, he smiled ruefully to himself and thought through the details of his, thus far, rather scattered plan. First off, of course, he had to figure out the boy's sexual preferences. That was generally a key part of seducing someone of the same sex. Draco nodded to himself. Maybe he could convince Zabini to jump him or something. The blond immediately tossed that plan under the reasoning that it wasn't going to work for two rather prominent reasons: One, he had lost just a bit of his favour with the Slytherins since Voldemort's death due to his loyalty to his family taking precedence over his loyalty to the Dark Lord. Therefore, it was rather easy to conclude that Blaise probably wouldn't be all that chirpy to let Draco push him around like he did last year. And two, the more important of the reasons, Potter was his, whether he knew it or not, and Draco'd be damned if anyone other than himself would touch him.

The blonds' eyes widened slightly at the vehement thought that seemed much too full of possessiveness for his general comfort. But Draco was a clever wizard, and he managed to push thoughts of such a dangerous nature away and rationalize with himself that he simply didn't want anyone else to sully Harry before he'd had a chance. The last thing he wanted to do was think about Blaise's penis in the same place his was while he was going at it with someone. A light shudder racked his body at the thought and Draco turned his attention back to the piece of ass a few feet away.

Oblivious to his intent, albeit confused watcher, Harry continued to converse rather half- heartedly with the dozens of familiar faces that drew courage from Neville and Luna's relaxed nature with him and accosted the newly disgruntled teen. This influx of well-wishers, praisers, and awe-struck admirers continued in a constant stream for several long minutes until the two people Harry had been most eager to see arrived. A flurry of movement and series of loud protests came from the depths of the crowd that surrounded him until, with an almighty surge of bodies being shoved out of the way, Ron and Hermione broke free from the crowd and flew to his side.

"Harry," Hermione called, rushing forward to draw him into a hug. "You look so... different!"

"Hey," Ron grinned, shaking Harry's hand happily.

He returned their greeting's with enthusiasm, glancing over the pair. The boy's grin faltered a bit as he did so, his eyes fixed on Hermoine's stomach.

"Harry," she questioned tentatively, her expression confused.

"Er... Hermione? Did you- Uh, are you er- " he began, unable to complete the question.

He suspicions were confirmed when Ron and Hermione blushed simultaneously, the former of the two scratching the back of his head whilst Hermione began stuttering.

"Er, pregnant? Yeah..." Ron finally managed, his voice faltering like he was reluctant to say the word.

"Uh, congratulations," Harry mumbled awkwardly, shaking Ron's hand again. There was a brief pause where the trio looked at each other in a tense silence, not a single one of them sure of what to do next. "So... let's find a compartment," Harry surged on, glancing around as if he would see a train compartment pop up onto the platform.

The couple's face fell with an almost audible crash.

"Um... Harry? We-We've just come to see you off... I'm not going back to school this year. Not... like this," Hermione frowned, her voice tentative as she spoke.

"What," Harry cried loudly. He ignored the startled looks he got from the members of the previous crowd that had slowly begun to disperse as they realized that they could no longer garner any attention from Harry.

Hermione hid her face from the eyes of those who had heard Harry's outburst, burying it in Ron's shoulder. He placed a reassuring arm around her neck and sent an apologetic look at Harry.

"Sorry, mate. With Herms... pregnant," he, again, seemed reluctant to say the word, " we have to stay at home where she can rest."

Ron continued to ramble on senseless explanations, his words lapping together in Harry's mind. A year at Hogwarts without Ron and Hermione? The only people who had been with him since the beginning? Harry's mind was blank.

"No, it's fine," he heard himself say almost cheerily. He continued as Ron and Hermione's faces lightened marginally. "I'm just going back to get my N.E. and then get outta there!"

He forced a laugh like the others that seemed to draw out of themselves with so much ease. Minutes of mundane conversation passed by in a blur, his mind still attempting to process a friendless year at school, when Hermione's voice penetrated his thoughts.

"Ooh, where's Teddy going to stay, Harry?"

"Huh? Oh, at Siri- er... my house. With Kreacher."

Ron looked stunned.

"You sure that's safe, Harry? Leaving him with that stink-"

"RON!"

"Sorry, Hermione.'

"Kreacher's fine, Ron," Harry stated firmly, his eyes unconsciously going to Hermione for support and was shocked to see a look of guilty reprimand on her face. A stretch of silence ensued in which Harry's gaze travelled from Ron's look of apology to Hermione's look of sheepish disapproval. When no one bothered to speak he grew frustrated. "What?"

They pair jumped at his sharp tone. Ron's hand moved to rub the back of his neck uncomfortably and his ears began to burn a bright red, while Hermione stuck her chin up defiantly. However, for all her bravado, Hermione wasn't able keep the nervous waver from her voice as she spoke.

"Isn't it a bit... irresponsible to leave a baby alone in a house, Harry?"

_'Irresponsible?'_ Harry's face burned an embarrassed red at the word. "But," he spluttered, eyes wide and furious. "I just said he was staying with Kreacher!"

"Yeah, mate, but Kreacher's just a house elf," Ron commented, looking at Hermione's nod for courage.

"He's right, Harry. Teddy needs a wizard to take care of him," she elaborated firmly, her hand unconsciously drifting to rest on her stomach as she thought about the toddler.

A wave of guilt stole over Harry even as he protested. "But you-" he stuttered at Hermione, thinking that Hermione would have been his one ally in leaving Teddy in the care of a house elf. All he could think about was her years of pushing S.P.E.W on Ron and himself and her insistence that house elves should be treated with the same respect as wizards. He opened his mouth to voice this but was cut off by Hermione.

"I know what you're thinking, and I still think that house elves aren't treated the way they should be, but they can't replace someone's _parents_."

Harry's expression shifted from enraged to crestfallen at her unintentionally crushing comment. "Neither can I," he said softly. Hermione and Ron's faces fell simultaneously as they realized their slip-up.

"Harry, Professor Lupin and Tonks made you Teddy's godfather because they knew you were the best person to take care of him," Hermione said gently, placing a light touch on his arm. "Do you think they would have left him with someone they didn't trust to look after their only child?"

"Yeah," Ron added, shooting him a crooked grin. "I mean, who better to take care of the son of two war heroes than another hero, right?"

The statement pulled a sarcastic smile to Harry's lips.

"Yeah, I'm doing a great job so far," he spat bitterly and raked a frustrated hand through his long hair, wincing as it got caught in a tangle.

"Well," Hermione began, shooting a significant look at Ron who just raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Harry, why don't we," she gestured to herself and Ron, "take care of Teddy for you? We've got to learn how to take care of babies anyway, and we can owl you every day to tell you how he's doing."

Harry stared at Hermione as if she'd suddenly sprouted a second head and began singing 'God Save the Queen' in Pig Latin. 'Well, why not,' a part of him asked, thinking it was the perfect solution to this sudden problem. 'I can't ask them to keep bailing me out of problems I created,' he answered himself instantly, not about to ask the two people who had saved his hide more times than he could count to do so again. They had their own lives to worry about.

He shook his head at them.

"Why not," Ron demanded, not at all used to the idea but offended that Harry had turned Hermione's offer down. "We can take care of him until you're out of school, right? I mean, the Ministry wants you to finish your N.E.W.T's to keep your job as an Auror, don't they? Looks to me like you can't take care of him yourself and you don't have any other ideas... Let us help."

"All you ever do is help me," Harry burst out in frustration, glaring at one of the brick columns diagonally from them. "I can't keep asking for people to help me with things. All it does is get them killed."

"That's what friends do, Harry. They help each other! And whether you like it or not, we're your friends," Hermione insisted loudly.

"Yeah, man. C'mon, it's taking care of a kid in a house no one can find. What exactly could happen to us," Ron chuckled, "he gets diaper rash?"

Harry remained silent for a long time, raking his brain for some solution, any solution, really, that could convince them to change their minds.

A sudden short blast from the Hogwarts Express brought them all back to reality, causing all three to jump.

"Let us do it," Hermione pleaded. "We'll take great care of him; you know we will!"

Ron nodded his agreement and Harry sighed, still unsure of what to do.

"Great," Hermione squealed, taking his sigh as one of resignation. "I'm going to get some books on caretaking spells, and I suppose I'll need learn about child metamorphmagi, and ooh! I'm going to need to learn how to change a diaper. I mean, obviously, I'd have to learn how to do it for when our baby comes-"

"Hermione-" Harry tried to interrupt her, but to no avail.

"-this is gonna be so fun! I wonder if mum still has that copy of 1-2-3 Magic*****-"

"Uh, Hermione-"

"Best just let it go, Harry. Once she starts talking about kids she can't hear anything anyone else says," Ron advised sagely, sending a fond look of annoyance at her.

Harry shook his head again, still unwilling to accept that he needed their help but, for Teddy's sake, forcing himself to do so regardless. Ron and Harry chatted easily while Hermione continued to list things she wanted to get to help her take care of Ted. Eventually, when she noticed no one was paying much attention to what she was saying, she stopped and, after a brief sulking session, joined in the boy's conversation.

"Blimey, look at the haul this year," Ron exclaimed suddenly, gazing around them at the sea of students clogging the platform for the first time.

Indeed, Platform Nine and Three Quarters was completely submerged in new faces, drifting around aimlessly and chattering with family.

"They can't _all_ be first years," he continued incredulously. "Look at _that_ beast!" He pointed to a massive, troll like boy in too- small robes showing off his multi- coloured cat. "He's got to be fourth year at least!"

Hermione sighed.

"Of course they're not all first years, Ronald!" she snapped, though there was no real venom in her voice. "Durmstrang's new headmaster was sent to Azkaban for forcing students to be test subjects for his experimental Dark spells. They couldn't find a new headmaster over break so the students were sent here until a replacement was found. I wonder how Professor McGon-"

Another short blast from the Hogwarts Express echoed around the slowly emptying platform.

Rather reluctantly, Draco pushed himself away from the column after the second warning, reminding himself to be careful not to snag his robes on the rough brick. With a last, long look at Harry, he pushed himself into the crowd around one of the many entrances to the train and boarded.

"Better hurry, mate," Ron sighed, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

Harry frowned, looking as if an internal struggle waged a war in his mind. "Right... Er, Hermione? Could I talk to you for a sec?" At a look from Ron he hastily added, "It's about my N.E.W.T's"

Hermione looked sceptical for a moment but a pleading look from Harry and she consented to follow him to a nearby column.

"Why would we need to get away from Ron to talk about N.E.W.T's?"

"Um... We wouldn't. Listen, I had a dream-" he began, but was cut off by Hermione, her voice shrill and worried.

"About You- Know- Who?! Harry, not-"

"No! No, it was about...Malfoy," he muttered the last word under his breath, indistinguishable from the roar of the scarlet train's engine.

"What?"

"Uh... Malfoy. Dr- Draco Malfoy," he repeated, mortified."

"Oh, Harry, not this again!"

"No, no, it's not like that! In the dream he-" but what he did Hermione never found out. The final warning of the Hogwarts Express sounded just in time to drown the last of his words away.

"Hurry! Go, go!" Hermione cried out as the train began to pull slowly from the station.

Harry groaned, calling quick farewells to Ron and Hermione and a request to take good care of Teddy before turning on the spot and disapperating onto the train. He heard a collective gasp as he popped into the compartment he'd used in his sixth year. A compartment that, to his chagrin, was absolutely stuffed with giggling third years.

"Is that-?"

"It is him!"

_"Harry Potter!"_

Whispers of his name surrounded him, pressing in from all sides mercilessly. One brave, curly haired girl even reached out a hand to grab his arm but quickly dropped it when he shot her a cool glare. He pushed his way out into the corridor forcefully, his clothes slightly dishevelled but otherwise intact.

He began his trek down the length of the train, groaning as he passed compartment after compartment, all seemingly as full as the one he apparated into. He had almost given up hope when he noticed a single empty compartment at the very back of the train. He sighed with relief and stepped into it, realizing immediately why it void of inhabitants. The room seemed to be right next to the engine, ( as usual in the wizarding world, this followed the opposite of muggle traditions by putting it in the back of the train) making it extremely loud, and held a distinct odour of rotting flobberworm.

With a sigh, he muttered soundlessly under his breath, waving his wand a bit until it emitted a small stream of air infused with the scent of cut grass, one of his favourite scents. With another incantation, he quieted the engine then plopped himself down onto the seat and covered his eyes, his breath escaping in a long sigh. The choppy but smooth sensation of the train's movement lulled him into a state of semi-consciousness and he drifted in and out of coherent thought as the Hogwart's Express made its way steadily towards its destination.

Some two trains away from Harry, a group of terrified first years stared with wide eyes at the furious figure that stood outside their compartment.

"What the hell?!" Draco growled angrily as he passed the full corridors. "Damn Durmstrang- Death Eater wannabes..." He had had a compartment all to himself near the center of the train but when he left to try and find the trolley witch, he'd come back to find the compartment absolutely crammed full of Durmstrang students. Without any hope of taking out the seven students that appeared to be at the very least, in their fifth years, he had retreated to try and find an new compartment. And now, here he was. Tearing up and down corridors terrifying first years all because he had wanted a damn box of jelly slugs.

Draco added a new colorful damnation under his breath each time he opened a compartment door. All of the blasted things were filled with either Gryffindorks, Ravenhos, or Huffle-something-insultings or even worse, the children of had- been Death Eaters, none of which were too fond of him at the moment. He growled at a third year that stepped on his foot as he made his way toward the back of the train. With luck, some of the compartments farther back would be vacant or he could just conjure up a noose and save himself the trouble. Either way would work.

"This is ridiculous!" he proclaimed, slamming yet another stuffed compartment. He approached the last door, prepared to find a place for that noose, but, wouldn't you know it? Right when he was getting ready to go all suicidal, his luck changed by a considerable amount. The one and only compartment with any room left and there sat Harry Scarhead Potter. It couldn't have been more perfect if he had planned the whole thing himself. Well, naturally, if he had planned it, Harry would have had much less clothing and a massive sex drive but, he could work with what he had. Suddenly, that smirk that had been replaced with an annoyed scowl returned to it's rightful place on his pale lips.

"Potter," Draco acknowledged casually, pulling the door shut behind him as he helped himself to the compartment.

_Hell and damnation!!_ Harry's mind screamed, anger masking the thrill of fear that crept up his spine. _THAT BOY IS EVERYWHERE!_

"Ello Dr- Malfoy," he replied, correcting his near 'fatal' mistake quickly.

Draco's signature smirk widened at the slip. Maybe this would be easier than he originally thought.

He sat down on the seat opposite Harry, stretching his legs out in front of him in a fantastic display of utter cool.

Harry cracked his eyes open partially for the first time to take in Draco's visage. He raked his eyes over the boy's body, taking in every crease and bulge as he tried to assess where he had his wand stashed.

"Everywhere else still full or could you just not stand being away from my company," he questioned sarcastically, his voice steady despite his nervous state.

"Oh, someone's grown an ego," Draco observed, his words, for once, not drowned in bitter sarcasm while directed at his arch-enemy. "Actually, everywhere else is full... or crawling with gits that don't want me associating with them," he mumbled, unknowingly allowing some of the hurt he felt at is seep into his expression. Not that he'd ever admit it verbally, of course. "So, it was either gracing you with my presence or conjuring up a noose to hang myself with." He didn't bother to hide the fact that he was practically devouring the boy with his eyes, "A rather easy decision, I think."

"And by an easy decision, you mean 'bring on the noose', obviously." Harry almost smiled, enjoying, much to his dismay, bantering Malfoy without the craving to hex him to hell and back.

"Obviously," Draco agreed.

Finally, giving up the pretence of a half- assed sleep, Harry sat up, swinging his legs around to prop them up on the seat across from him.

Noticing the flaxen haired boy's attention, Harry forced down the unexpected feeling of pride that popped up out of no- fucking- where, (I'm straight, you idiot, duh, he reminded himself), and drew up a feeling of disgust instead.

"Enjoying your fill, are you?" he questioned coolly, doing a deliberate stretch that pushed his dark red tee up and to reveal his slightly muscled stomach. He stared at his enemy's face through half-lidded eyes to gauge his reaction, wondering how far he dared go.

Draco's eyes moved over the newly exposed skin, their gray depths darkening slightly.

"Like I said, Potter, you look different."

He shrugged dismissively.

Enticed by the look and drenched in curiosity about this new development in knowledge towards his nemesis, Harry trailed a hand down his stomach with the pretence of grabbing his wand from the hem of his pants, hoping to get a better reaction this time.

"Hungry," he questioned, shaking his wand in a suggestive way with a slightly wicked grin.

The Slytherin's eyes flicked up to watch the hand intently. Was the boy- who- conquered actually trying to seduce him? God, this really was going much better than he predicted. Hell, he could probably go over there and snog the boy senseless right now.

He opened his mouth to give a, no doubt, perverse reply, but decided against it.

"Nope, that's just too easy."

Harry smirked, the overly persistent voice in his head that was shouting (Straight! HELLO?! ) completely ignored.

"Is it? How sad. But perhaps it's not as easy as you think, Drakie," he commented in a mocking voice, drawing upon the pet name he'd heard Pansy Parkinson use once as he passed by the Slytherin table.

"Hmm, that sounds like a challenge," Draco observed quietly.

Suddenly the voice that had been making such a fuss in his head conjured up a body simply for the pleasure of bashing it's head an imaginary wall.

(You- _bang_!- are- _bam_!- not- _SMASH_!- GAY! STOP_ FLIRTING_!)With that final note, the image fell down, face first, and lay twitching every few seconds.

"Well I'm hungry," Harry shrugged after a pause and summoned a stack of cauldron cakes from the trolley. He grabbed a cake from the stack and crammed it hungrily into his mouth, closing his eyes as he swallowed as if it were the most wonderful thing he'd ever tasted.

"Want one?" he questioned politely, flicking out a pink tongue and curling it expertly around his thin fingers, letting no crumb go un-tasted.

Inside his head, Harry's Alter Ego Person ((A/N: Let us call him Haep)) twitched disgustedly and groaned in a muffled voice, (...not...gay...)

"I'll pass," Draco answered distractedly, trying hard, really, not to jump the boy right then and there. What was with him? Draco was an expert and controlling situations and seducing the objects of his desire, yet here sat Harry-fucking-Potter of all people actually making passes at him and he had no clue what the boy was thinking.

He paused a second to think before questioning, "Did you just call me Drakie?" he huffed. "Seriously? C'mon," Draco added in an uber-macho voice that didn't resemble a pout in the slightest.

(I called you no such thing!) Haep screeched indignantly.

"So what if I did? Are you going to stop me?" Harry smiled, not considering this as being dangerous ground for such a shaky half- civil conversation.

"Again, too easy." Draco smirked back, finally accepting a cauldron cake, on his terms of course.

[Ta de da de da de da, oddly comfortable conversion, Ta de da]

The two talked carefully, a silent agreement keeping them away from dangerous topics such as Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy, the fact that Harry was holding Draco's wand, and Dumbledore until Harry's body was suddenly pulled forward slightly as a result of the slowing train.

"Already there? Hmm, that was quick." he commented, shrugging it off and, with a flick of his wand was in his school robes. "Better change, Malfoy, you don't want to be trampled by a hoard of burly Durmstrang gits, do you?"

"Only if you call me Drakie again. Makes me think of Pansy," he shuddered for fished out his new black walnut wand and, without much thought behind it, changed into his robe, which was blessedly free of a prefect badge, thank fucking Merlin. Speaking of missing things...

"Where'd your stupid little Gryffindor thingy go?" Draco frowned for a moment. He definitely did not just say 'thingy'.

Harry cleared the random papers left by the cauldron cakes and resisted the urge to grin.

"My Gryffindor...thingy," he actually chuckled," no longer belongs to me. I wrote McGonagall over the summer and asked to be resorted. See you around Malfoy."

The teen left his story there and barrelled himself out into the flooded corridor, shoving his way past the other students with an almost cruel air.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way, shape or form own the Harry Potter franchise or its characters. They belong to a certain J.K Rowling. Any character used in this fan fiction are used purely for fan play and do not reflect upon the actual story in any way nor do they the make any profit for me. The lazy bastards. That being said, the plot _does _belong to myself and hate the HARLOT. The plot is our shiny. If you touch our shiny we will poke you in the eye. Seriously, dude... in the eye. Both of them. _And it will hurt._

**Ch. 4 Stalking**

The truth was, Harry had been so desperate to prove he hadn't changed since killing Riddle that he had, in one last wild effort that he still didn't quite understand, begged Minerva to allot him a request. His mind drifted back to that day with stunning ease as he approached one of the many theastral- drawn carriages lined along the grounds outside the station.

_"Professor, please? I have to know," Harry begged, his shockingly green eyes pleading._

_"Potter, I simply cannot. It is unheard of," McGonagall's stern voice replied curtly. She cast a slightly hurt look that didn't quite suit her thin face at the teen before her, confusion written in her expression. "Are you that unhappy in my house?"_

_A pang of regret at his sudden flash of anger hit Harry when he read the sadness etched in the deep lines of the headmistresses face. _

_"Err... no. But-" his voice dropped down so low that McGonagall had to lean in to hear him. "But th-the night I battled Tom Riddle... I feel like I... _changed_. I felt so different from what I had before. So... out of place." His voice suddenly became swifter, the words tumbling over themselves as they pushed past his lips. "And, well, my first year I was so close to being in Sl- uh, a different house. And I would have been if I hadn't begged the sorting hat to place me somewhere- anywhere- else. I-I've thought about this a lot, almost constantly, since last year. I think I've been interfering with things for too long and now it's killed Professor Dumbledore and Sirius... I just-" He stopped suddenly and dropped his voice back down low rhythm. "I want to know what will happen if I just... stay out of things for once..."_

_During his monologue, Minerva had been listening intently to Harry's words, her face growing less severe with each word._

_"Potter, no one has ever really tried this... I don't even know that it'll work. Are you certain this is what you want to do?"_

_He hesitated a moment, his gaze distant and unfocused._

_"Y... Yes."_

_McGonagall gazed at him for a long moment before nodding, re-gaining her usual curt manner._

_"Very well," she said, rising from the bench. "Come to my office after the sorting at eleven o'clock."_

So now here he was, having drifted through the night with a finite sort of indifference. With no house table to sit at, he had watched the usual sorting of the first years and the new sorting of the Durmstrang students from a corner of the Great Hall. He took great care in avoiding the curious gazes of his old house mates. A certain comfort in the familiarity of the castle washed over him while he walked, frowning only when he thought of all the things that had changed. The usual troop of first years had been tainted in his opinion by the new additions of the Durmstrang students waiting with them. He hadn't even been aware of the breath he was holding until the headmistress had announced that the Durmstrang students were getting their own quarters on the grounds and would only need to know their house for classes. Adding to the changes of the great hall was the absence of Professor Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione and several of the other students he knew from his seventh year that had not come back to complete their training after the Final Battle. He had barely taken comfort in Hagrid's concerned eyes searching the Gryffindor table for him and had simply shrunk back farther into the shadows.

He drew in a deep breath and knocked firmly on the Headmistress's door.

"Come in, Harry," came Professor McGonagall's voice, muffled by the thick door.

He opened the door quietly, standing on the threshold with uncertainty. The room had changed in subtle ways from when he had last visited it, but it still held the essence of Professor Dumbledore's power within its walls.

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter," Professor McGonagall called from behind her desk, peering at him intently. "Come in and take a seat."

"Good afternoon, Professor," Harry mumbled respectfully, stepping in and taking the seat she offered. He glanced around the office silently while McGonagall sorted through her papers, his gaze lingering on the large portrait behind the desk where Albus Dumbledore stared at him in a serious manner. He avoided his piercing gaze guiltily, staring at his shoelaces instead, apparently deep in thought.

A few minutes passed before he was snapped out of his hebetude by Professor McGonagall's sharp voice.

"All right, let's make this quick," she said briskly, rising from her seat to retrieve the dusty, patched sorting hat from its perch atop the shelves. As she bustled behind him, Harry caught another glimpse of Dumbledore, his face now impassive as he watched the proceedings. He heard the professor approach him and felt the weight of the sorting hat being placed on his head.

Unlike with his first encounter with the sorting hat, it did not fall over his eyes. Instead, he was left to watch Professor Dumbledore's phlegmatic expression while he waited for the hat to decide his fate.

"Back _again_, Potter," a familiar voice sounded quietly in his ear.

"Yes," Harry managed through gritted teeth, his hands clutching the seat beneath him in anxiety.

"Well now, what's this? You want to start over? And not interfere? With what, I wonder? Well, in any case, I think it's time we saw how you did in... SLYTHERIN!"

A cold sort of acceptance washed over Harry as the hat shouted the last word, announcing his fate to the room. He was barely aware that Professor McGonagall had removed the old hat gingerly from his head and returned it to its rightful place on the shelf.

He had expected it. Even before the hat had touched his head, he had known what the outcome would be. But that didn't make the reality that he would never see the comfortable, brightly lit Gryffindor common room ever again any less harsh. Now all he had to look forward to was life in a stiff, dark common room filled with people that hated him. A life filled with endless torture from Goyle, Zabini, and... Malfoy. A shiver ran down his arms at the name.

"Well Potter, the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons. The password is Basilisk, and you'll have a bed ready with your schedule on it waiting with your belongings."

Harry nodded numbly, his body moving without his consent out of McGonagall's office and down the hundreds of steps to the dungeon. Before he could blink, he stood, wand clutched tightly beneath his robes, at the Slytherin entrance.

_Students usually go to sleep after the welcome back feast_, a small part of Harry encouraged, making his feet inch forward a bit.

(You... are an idiot...) Haep hissed quietly, shooting an imaginary glare at him. (Open the damn door!)

With those final, utterly encouraging words, Harry mumbled basilisk and watched in horror at the stretch of bare wall slid open and he was, once again, facing the extravagant Slytherin common room. It was, of course, decorated in the usual green lamps dangling from chains on the ceiling and high backed chairs. The only welcoming thing was the great fire that crackled in an almost friendly manner from the elaborately carved fireplace.

Harry sighed.

"Home _sweet_ home."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way, shape or form own the Harry Potter franchise or its characters. They belong to a certain J.K Rowling. Any character used in this fan fiction are used purely for fan play and do not reflect upon the actual story in any way nor do they the make any profit for me. The lazy bastards. That being said, the plot _does _belong to myself and hate the HARLOT. The plot is our shiny. If you touch our shiny we will poke you in the eye. Seriously, dude... in the eye. Both of them. And it will hurt. _Oh, how it will hurt._

**Ch. 5 Denial**

Draco had been lounging on one of the several black, leather clad couches, book clasped firmly in pale hands when he heard someone enter the common room. Naturally, he thought nothing of it, choosing to simply delve back into the book with relish, his back stretching slightly against the uncomfortable seat. He had had every intention of ignoring the visitor in traditional Malfoy manner. At least that was what he had intended to do until he heard the boy's voice. His dark gray eyes moved slowly from the book to the source of the voice, worried that if he looked up too quickly, Potter would vanish.

When his eyes met the sharp green of Harry's, he smirked smugly, swinging his legs out in front of himself so he could walk over to him. With each step that brought him closer to his target, Draco's smirk slowly began to diminish and become replaced by a look of intense hunger.

"Have you decided to stalk me, then? That's cute," he teased, one long finger reaching out to trail a short path down the boy's arm of its own accord. Draco was a master at seduction, naturally, and relished the chase that preceded a night or two of mind-blowing sex after months of anticipation. But this time, something in him was pushing him forward at a pace unlike his usual one. Perhaps it was because Potter was his enemy and he wanted to prove something to him... The blond seemed to accept that deduction and returned his attention to caressing the arm of the teen in front of him.

After the initial shock at Draco's actions, Harry scoffed, jerking his arm away quickly from the touch.

"Hardly. You just seem to be every- fucking- where I go now," he shrugged, casting it from his mind carelessly. "And I don't do anything... _cute_..." he almost- pouted under his breath.

Draco just chuckled, moving closer so that Harry was forced to move back until the blond had him pinned against a wall.

"Quite the contrary, Potter," he taunted huskily in the squirming boys ear. "Everything you do is cute."

Draco waited a moment before continuing, relishing the shudder he got as he pressed his body even closer to Harry's. Torturing this boy was just way too much fun. Why in the name of Merlin's beard hadn't he thought of this ages ago?

"So you're in Slytherin now, huh," he tsk-ed sadly, pulling his face from beside Harry's to peer into the scared emerald depths. "You're faithful little army is going to be so disappointed."

Harry glared at the icy gray eyes looming before, more than a little furious at his antics. What was this, a game?

"I think they can manage just fine without me getting them killed off, thanks," he hissed, the cold of the dungeon wall casting chills down his spine. "And what the hell are you _doing_," he demanded, his voice slightly higher than usual as he tried to merge into the wall and escape the close proximity of the boy in front of him.

"I have no bloody idea," Draco answered honestly, arching an eyebrow elegantly. "But... I think I might just be pinning you to a wall. Which, just so happens to be in the Slytherin common room," he mumbled, the significance of the location lost completely on Harry. He paused for a moment, bringing his hands up to rest against the wall on either side of Harry's shoulders to prevent the boy from bolting. "Which brings me to my next point; as you may or may not know, I have, with much hard work and about a hundred bottles of hair gel, earned myself the title of 'Slytherin Sex God' and a well deserved reputation of bedding every decent piece of ass at Hogwarts... Except Hufflepuffs... and Gryffindorks. But, you see, you aren't a Gryffindor anymore. Which lands us at my final point; you're putting my reputation in danger, and I can't have that."

Harry's look of horror grew with each word that flew from Malfoy's lips. Without meaning to, he squeaked slightly at the blond's last words, his panic increasing as he felt the true significance of Malfoy's arms on either side of him, pinning him to the spot. He was in enemy territory, almost a mile away from any form of aly, and pinned to a wall by his gay arch-nemesis that just so happens to be trying to seduce him. And he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to make it stop. Or, even worse, if he actually _wanted _it to stop. Of _course_ he wanted it to stop, he corrected immediately, shaking his head back and forth slightly to clear it. But he had no idea how to do so.

As it was, he couldn't bring his body to move the slightest muscle. Everything right down to his breathing was still. All around him the intoxicatingly strong scent of sandalwood and hair gel filled his every pore, making him feel light headed to the point of slight drunkenness.

(Harry! Snap out of it! YOU'RE STRAIGHT! Not gay! Straight!) Haep's voice sounded, distant and muddled, but the words still stuck to Harry's soul.

_'Right... Not gay... Straight... .' _he thought weakly, attempting to force his body to move.

(Treacherous body! Move! Grab the wand and curse the smirk of his damn face!) Haep screeched loudly, his message increasingly clearer in Harry's head. He had to figure out a way to move, to get away from this fucked-up situation.

Draco's smirk widened considerably as he got no answer.

"Exactly," he grinned, obviously happy with the boy's (lack of) reaction. "So, you understand my problem."

Before he had even finished his last word, his head lowered to the crook of Harry's neck, pale lips pressing against the warm bronze flesh of the boy's throat. Still trapped in a drunken state, Harry could do no more than remain trapped in the Slytherin Prince's web as he lowered his face to his neck. He shivered slightly at the kiss and felt his knees begin to buckle.

"Ah-!" Harry half moaned before stifling the sound through a harshly bitten lip.

"Don't try to quite yourself."

Draco's tongue flicked out for a moment to taste his prey before he smirked against the boy's skin, teeth latching onto the novice Slytherin's neck.

The moment Draco's teeth actually latched onto his skin, Harry's own set of pearly whites were tainted crimson with a sudden flow of blood from the inside of his mouth.

"Mal-" he choked, making a deep guttural sound in the depths of his throat._'_

"How can you call me Malfoy when I'm currently playing the role of the sexiest thing in your life? It's Draco, damnit!" He didn't give Harry a chance to respond before moving from the boy's neck to cover his mouth. Draco let his hands slide down the cool wall to rest on Harry's waist, one of his thumbs dipping under the waistband of the teen's trousers. So he'd discovered a weakness, had he? That neck thing could be damn useful later. He made sure to remember it.

_'Yeah, so it's a hell of a lot easier than expected, but seriously, who could deny Draco Malfoy: Slytherin Sex God?' _Draco thought smugly, his tongue tracing one of Harry's lips before biting down on it slightly._ 'He kisses better than I would have thought... Weaselette must've taught him well... Fuck, he tastes better too, like... strawberries... and sugar? What the hell has he been eating?' _Draco deepened the kiss, pressing Harry closer to the wall in an attempt to keep from laughing._ 'He's such a fucking girl... Even tastes like one...' _He pushed his thoughts away, as entertaining as they were, and pulled back with great reluctance, savouring the metallic taste of blood.

Harry was aware of every part of Malfoy that touched him. Electricity roiled through his mouth and down his veins where Draco's lips met his. The hand that rested on his waist buckled his knees and he was acutely grateful for the fact that the blond's body had his pinned against a solid surface.

(NOOO!) Came Haep's anguished screech from the recesses of his mind once again. (What is _wrong_ with you? Hey! HEY! Stop _kissing him!)_

But Haep's voice was slowly being drowned out by the intoxicating scent of sandalwood and hair gel and the addictive taste of mint and spiced tea that seemed to cling to the velvet of the other boy's tongue and linger in his own mouth long after it had left.

"Dr...Draco," Harry breathed harshly, his head involuntarily falling against the Slytherin's neck. "Draco," he breathed again in an inaudible voice. Imaginary warmth spread throughout his stomach at the name, its syllables feeling completely at home on his tongue.

Draco almost smiled at his name pouring from the boy's mouth but instead replaced it with at perfect smirk. A step in the right direction. Good.

"Please... again..." Mortified at his pleading, Harry nevertheless raised his head to gaze at Draco fixedly, the confusion at the situation written plainly on his features.

Draco was slightly shocked to hear the sickeningly pathetic request come from Harry's mouth, but like a true Malfoy, he pushed the feeling backward and pulled up a sense of contempt at such weakness. "Well, who am I to deny my wicked kissing skills to the masses," he chimed, ignoring the niggling feeling in the back of his mind that said he was enjoying this way too much.

Shoving all thoughts, negative or otherwise aside, he instead had one of his hands slither up to tangle long fingers in the hair at the nape of Harry's neck

"Deny your-" Harry began but was cut off by a strange gasping sound. Merlin, he just _had_ to touch his neck, didn't he? '_What, does he have weakness vision,'_ he thought, wondering exactly how he could be getting such horrifying pleasure from Draco Malfoy of all people.

The Slytherin Prince leaned forward to catch the boy's lips again, his mind working on how corny it sounded that his world had melted away and all he could sense was Harry, the taste of strawberries and sugar, and his own body pressed firmly against the males.

Harry had attempted to half scowl at his seducer but was, _once again_ cut off, this time in a much more satisfying manner.

Pushing closer, one of Draco's legs slid firmly between Harry's as he tugged on the boy's hair to grant himself better access.

"Oh, _fuck!" _Harry managed to gasp out just before he allowed his head to be jerked back, just as eager to deepen the contact as his mortal-bloody-enemy-that-just-happens-to-be-snogging-him-into-the-best-erection-of-his-life-thingy. The sudden contact with the most sensitive part of his anatomy sent a tidal wave of pleasure surfing through his body. Had he not been pressed so tightly against the wall and the body in front of him, he would have collapsed on the spot.

The kiss deepened and Draco pried Harry's mouth open once more and swiped his tongue across his lip before delving in.

Fuelled by the slightest sounds pouring from the back of Harry's throat, Draco almost lost it, his fingers tightened in the male's hair as he pushed closer, attempting to close the non-existent distance between their bodies as he nibbled lightly on Harry's lower lip before pulling away to breath in deeply.

Draco smiled, not smirked, that's right smiled an _actual_ smile, his fingers tracing over Harry's neck before he turned away to hide the bulge in his slacks and walked slowly toward the dormitories.

Time seemed to slow as Draco's grip loosened ever- so- slightly, making Harry aware of every tiny touch of his skin that had been joined with Malfoy's. And even as time slowed, there appeared a large gap between the time when the blond was kissing him and half way across the room.

"Don't know about you, but I need some sleep. I'd hate to fall asleep during History of Magic. Professor Binns's lecture will, no doubt, be as riveting as always. Hate to miss it, I really, really would," he called through a perfectly placed yawn.

"Oh, and...Harry?" Draco turned back to look at the male, a mild form of malice in his tone. "Slytherin's don't say 'please'. You should really work on that."

_"...fall asleep... Binns's lecture will be..." _Words only fell by in large dollop for Harry, as if he were an old radio, only catching bits and pieces of a signal.

He whimpered slightly, his blood suddenly cold.

_"Harry... Slytherin's don't say 'please'... should work on that..."_

That's right. He was a Slytherin now. A Slytherin.

"I'm... a Slytherin...," he whispered in a barely audible voice.

A minute... an hour... a lifetime... there was no way for Harry to be aware of how long he stood there, newly aware that the rough texture of the dungeon wall was digging mercilessly in to the skin on his back.

Whatever the time frame, it was long enough. With an enormous amount of effort, he forced his body forward to a sinister looking couch and sank down onto the thin cushions. He sighed, curling into the seat and ignoring the fact that he could feel the wooden support beams beneath the deep green cushioning that served virtually no purpose at all.

A clock chimed somewhere in the room. One o'clock. As Harry drifted in and out of consciousness, faces dancing across his vision with increasing clarity, he could do no more than groan at the thought of facing classes tomorrow.

His last delirious thought was weather or not he'd have potions with the Slytherin's.

Harry giggled wildly in his sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way, shape or form own the Harry Potter franchise or its characters. They belong to a certain J.K Rowling. Any character used in this fan fiction are used purely for fan play and do not reflect upon the actual story in any way nor do they the make any profit for me. The lazy bastards. That being said, the plot _does _belong to myself and hate the HARLOT. The plot is our shiny. If you touch our shiny we will poke you in the eye. Seriously, dude... in the eye. Both of them. And it will hurt. Oh, how it will hurt.

**Ch. 6 The Morning After**

Gazing around the empty common room, it was impossible to comprehend the fact that the sun was now in the sky. Dim beams poured feebly from the hanging lamps scattered sparingly throughout the room, their thin rays hardly enough to earn the title 'light'. Even so, as Draco gazed at Harry's sleeping form, he noticed the shine his hair got when hit with the barest hint of light. The blond frowned at his own hand as it twitched; eager to feel the soft tresses run over it again.

Said hand ran over the back of his neck in an uncharacteristic display of aggravation. He had meant to wake the boy up, not write bloody poetry in his head about hair.

"Hey," Draco mumbled, poking Harry haphazardly in the knee. (A/N: Don't ask me how you can poke someone haphazardly in the knee, I don't know. Ask hate the HARLOT.) "You alive?"

Not eliciting a response, Draco frowned slightly, prodding the boy again, this time with much more vigour. Harry groaned loudly and shifted positions, promptly ignoring the ominous creak it uttered. Satisfied that the boy- who- conquered was conscious enough to listen to him, Draco keeled down next to the dark seat and propped his head on a deceivingly delicate-looking hand.

"Whad'yawan'?"

The blond snickered slightly and tilted his head to the side. "Well, I thought, in my infinite kindness, that I would wake you for classes and maybe get in quick shag in the shower."

Harry's eyes flew open instantly and he jerked closer to the back of the seat, his nose almost one with the deep green back cushion as it creaked once again. He had every intention of ignoring it again, of course… that is, until it broke.

The teen let out a piercing yell as the centre of the love seat snapped and slung him to the ground.

"AAH," he screeched, hitting the floor with at dull thud. "Ow! Fuck!"

Draco swallowed hard in an attempt against laughing as he gazed down at the boy's pain contorted face. Chips of wood now rested comically in his dark hair, and he was unconsciously rubbing his bum gingerly. He gazed down at the nails on his hand in as a way of busying himself from the alluring temptation of busting out into a fit of very manly giggles.

"Morning to you too, sunshine," he greeted. "You know, most people tend to take advantage of the whole dormitory ordeal. Beds are generally more comfortable… stable, too."

"Fuck… off… Malfoy," came Harry's muffled reply.

He groaned pathetically and curled into a ball amongst the sharp splinters, wishing he could vanish amongst them. Thank god it was only Malfoy and himself in the common room, or he may have had to take a leaf from Malfoy's book and find a nice place to string up a noose. Unwilling to think of how exactly he had come to the conclusion that it was okay for his enemy to see him like this, Harry chose to merely glare at the wreckage he had caused.

'_Stupid chair. You had all night to break, but you choose _now_ of all times...'_

"Draco," the blond corrected with a sneer, pulling Harry's attention back to himself. "You plan on getting up any time soon? I mean if you really want to miss class…" He trailed off with an unconcerned shrug.

'_So that's why no one else is around.' _Harry scowled, shifting to glare at the blond with what he hoped was a detached air. He studied the pale face looming before him carefully, his heartbeat racing instantly out of either fear or anticipation. "Of course not, _Malfoy_," he spoke coldly, carefully avoiding the splinters surrounding him as he rose into a sitting position.

"Draco," the Slytherin Prince insisted again, demeanour remaining nonchalant.

Harry 'hmph'd derisively at the correction and turned his head away from the male's piercing eyes.

"Well, if you'd rather, I could rape you or something, but I'm thinking you'd prefer going to class," Draco offered coolly, not breaking his stare. The two sat in silence for a bit, Draco's face passive, Harry's panicked, as the blond waited patiently for a reaction.

After a stretch of even more silence, Draco reached a hand out and fingered Harry's gently, smirking as the green orbs finally met his. "So you _do_ want me to rape you," he concluded arrogantly, a hand making its way to the back of the brunette's neck.

Harry shivered violently at the casual tone in Draco's voice and jerked back from the contact. In the time it took him to rise from amongst the clutter of splinters, he had fled into the blessedly empty dormitory door and shut it soundly.

"That's what I thought," Draco smirked as the boy darted from the room. He rose from his crouched position gracefully, dusting a few lingering bits of wood from the knees of his trousers. The teen grinned slightly as he made his way to the exit, muttering under his breath. "That went well…"

"No… no, no, no, no, no, noooo," Harry moaned, sliding down the door and covering his eyes, as if to shut out the steady flow of images, most of which involved Draco kissing him. His mind was broken, all events moving in a dreamlike trance around him. "No… no, I didn't. I didn't, I didn't,_ I didn't!_" Behind his hand, Harry's brilliant emerald eyes were frantic.

(Yes, you did.) Haep's smug voice pummeled him relentlessly. (I warned you, I really did. You remember? I said--)

"Shut the FUCK UP," the dark haired teen exploded, infinitely grateful that the combination of his hands over his face and the thick dungeon walls had muffled his voice to the point that he was confident no one had heard him yell at himself.

"Ugh," he sighed disgustedly, finally angry enough that he forgot his run in with Malfoy. He made his way over to the bed with his trunk at the foot of it and sank down, thanking every deity he knew that all the other Slytherin's had already departed for their respective classes along the way. The green silk covered mattress much more comfortable than he had assumed it would be, given his experience with the other Slytherin furniture. The supple down of the bed held sleep in its cloth and welcomed him happily, pulling at his eyes in the most wonderful of ways. Just as his eyelids drifted down to meet one another, something stark white caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

"Huh?"

Harry turned just enough to grasp the parchment and brought it up to his face.

"Yes," he whispered excitedly, flopping back onto the bed after half removing his clothing. "Free period!" An entire class until he had to see Malfoy again… life was good. And after all that fuss about being late for classes. He allowed himself a short bark of mirthless laughter, not bothering to wonder why Draco being wrong was so amusing.

With nothing better to do, Harry closed his eyes and absently traced the swirling pattern of his tribal rose, the intricate design and curling script almost visible beneath his eyelids.

**So, that was it, in all its short suckish glory. No fluff for a while after this, but when we get there, it'll be worth the wait, I promise.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way, shape or form own the Harry Potter franchise or its characters. They belong to a certain J.K Rowling. Any character used in this fan fiction are used purely for fan play and do not reflect upon the actual story in any way nor do they the make any profit for me. The lazy bastards. That being said, the plot _does _belong to myself and hate the HARLOT. The plot is our shiny. If you touch our shiny we will poke you in the eye. Seriously, dude... in the eye. Both of them. And it will hurt. Oh, how it will hurt. _Pain. There will be lots of pain._

**Ch. 7 What a way to Wake**

_A pale moon hung listlessly in the inky black sky above Hogwarts, its brilliant reflection rippling serenely in the lake. Gentle breezes pushed the dark tresses of Harry Potter's hair about his face as he lay against the trunk of a thick tree just outside the small clearing between the Forbidden Forest and the lake. The night, scented slightly with the heady aroma of dogwood, drifted around him like a comforting embrace as he absently clenched and unclenched his fist in the thick blanket of grass beneath him. He sank deep amongst the roots of the tree, his head lulling back until it bumped the curve of the trunk behind him, giving his eyes access to the innumerable amount of stars above him._

_He gazed on in an easy silence until a rustling sound to his right caught his attention. Harry snapped his head in the direction of the noise, attempting to discern who or whatever it was that was stalking him. Straining his eyes, he could barely make out an obscure figure striding purposefully toward him; one of what he assumed was its arms stretched out towards him._

"_Wha-?" Harry stammered quietly, leaning forward and squinting slightly in an attempt to peer farther into the dark._

_What met his eyes forced a harsh gasp from his mouth, making him jerk back in an interesting mixture of surprise and disgust. The figure was looming closer with its evil intent plastered all over its face. Harry scurried backwards swiftly, the twigs and roots spread across the ground slowing his progress dramatically. He opened his mouth vastly and prepared to scream when-_

"Oomph!"

Harry felt the mass amount of air he had accumulated to scream leave his lungs in one short, strangled burst as a warm, heavy body collided with his own.

"AAH! Geroffme!!" He cried out loudly, flinching horribly as his own loud voice echoed around the room and slammed into his ears. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Harry struggled into a sitting position and blinked the last recesses of sleep from his eyes forcefully. The moment he regained proper vision, he shot a glare that could shake worlds at the blond hovering just above his knees.

Draco stared down at Harry haughtily, arching one fair brow high. He appeared to consider the question carefully for a moment before dropping his arms ever-so-slightly and breathing in the other boy's ear seductively.

"Well," he began, delighting in the shiver that ran down the teen pinned beneath him. "I was going to wake you up for Herbology…" He paused long enough to shift his body mass until he straddled him properly. "And it just so happens that I was planning on doing so in the fashion of a blow job, but then you had to go off and ruin it by waking up."

Harry scoffed indignantly, struggling vainly to heave Malfoy from his position atop him. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Guess it's just innate for me to wake up when some crazy wanker pounces me in the middle of a REM cycle."

Despite his rather obvious protests, Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the image of Draco, flaxen hair tussled and hanging seductively in his eyes, from dominating his more sensible thoughts. He closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously and then opened them back up to roughly the size of a galleon.

"Dammit," he exploded suddenly, wriggling with difficulty from beneath his stalker and scrambling desperately to the corner of the bed. There he sat, emerald eyes panicked and knees to his chest with his back firmly against the wall as violent tremors racked through his body.

"You! You stay away from me," he growled, pointing an unsteady finger at Draco.

Said blond grinned languidly at his current toys' antics, raking a hand through his hair in an attempt to keep it from his eyes.

"Umm," the Slytherin Prince started, pausing as if he was actually considering. After a lengthy pause in which the only sound was Harry's slightly panicked breathing, he finished his statement with a sneer. "No."

Draco crawled toward the panting teen in the corner defiantly, hungry grey eyes devouring the exposed skin of Harry's torso. He licked his lips and shot a devilish grin at him, locking his gaze on the toned, tawny skin that sat so ready for him to tease.

It appeared as if Harry seemed confused for a minute at the sudden intense look in his enemy's orbs until he traced the gaze down to his own body. His eyes widened comically as the reality of the situation hit him. He had a horny ex- Death Eater in his bed and he was half-naked and wandless. This was not good.

"Ugh, you pervert," he hissed, unsure of what else to do. In an attempt to add emphasis to his statement, he grabbed the emerald sheet surrounding his body and jerked them forward to cover himself, not noticing the slightly deranged looking Mal-ferret still perched upon it. He gazed on blankly as the sudden shift caused Draco's body to launch backward off the bed and land with a loud thud to the cold hardwood floor.

Draco was quickly on his feet, straightening his robes back to perfection and sitting on the edge on the bed as if nothing had ever happened, his stormy eyes daring Harry to say anything.

"I'm a sex god, not a pervert, there's a difference," he stated flatly, his pink cheeks fading quickly back to their usual pale complexion. "Perverts have no class."

Harry grinned evilly, still enjoying the image of Draco's frantic scramble to regain his composure replaying rhythmically in his minds eye. It seemed as if _he_ had the upper hand now.

"That was very classy, you're right," he laughed, drawing the sheet further around his slim body unconsciously.

"Of course I'm right. I'm a Malfoy. I'm always right," Draco announced pompously, promptly ignoring Harry's sarcasm.

"You're bloody mental, you are," Harry murmured, finding his amusement at the situation spent. He curled himself into a tighter ball, wondering as he peered over the tops of his knees how he had possibly managed to forget that he was scared out of his right mind for even a second.

"Yeah?" Draco asked teasingly, cocking an eyebrow amusedly. "Face it Harry, you aren't exactly repulsed by my presence." He shot a look at the brunet, his gaze daring him to contradict the statement.

Seemingly unfazed by the look, Harry searched through his mind desperately for something to say. "Yes. Yes, I am! You disgust me! Y-you repulse me! You…" Harry trailed off suddenly as another vision of Draco floated up into his sight. This time he saw him as he was after a kiss, his perfect, flushed face pulling back from his own, lips parted and swollen from—

--EW! YOU ARE SO GAY!-- Haep suddenly bellowed the tiny form of his image interrupting Harry's fantasy efficiently. --Honestly, this is getting out of hand. You're actually fantasizing about men now? Ugh, soon you'll be sucking each other off and then- BAM! You're gonna be takin' it right up the ass…-- He trailed off ominously as Harry gazed blindly at a spider web of cracks along the opposite wall.

As he sat there in silence, Draco waited with waning fortitude for him to finish his sentence. Long moments passed by with nothing but a thundering hush pressing in on him from all sides. He pinned the teen with his piercing grey orbs, barely blinking for several long seconds.

"'You…?'" he supplied impatiently, finally deciding it was pointless to anticipate an answer any time soon. "Are one sexy devil? Yeah, I know."

Harry's unfocused eyes snapped to attention at that, the dent to his pride more than enough to bring him crashing, however reluctantly, back to reality. He clenched a hand in the sheet still plastered to his chest and growled slightly.

"I didn't say th-"

Unfortunately, as was his habit while around Draco, Harry was unable to complete his sentence. The blond had sensed his indignation as the perfect opening to lean forward and capture Harry's lips in a bruising kiss.

"Mmph!" Harry attempted; jerking his head back until it banged sharply into the wall at the back of him. He winced horribly at the pain that attacked his skull but managed to grind out a statement nonetheless.

"Get off of me," he growled even as one of his hands reached out to draw the blond closer, eliciting an arched brow from Draco.

--Drop it!-- Haep hissed, making Harry glance at his hand in mild surprise... --No! Bad!--

Docile Harry obeyed instantly, masking his movement by shoving Draco away roughly. Draco was unaffected by the push, but backed up a few inches regardless to give Harry the precious space he needed.

"I'm not gay," Harry panted as he tried to create even more distance between them. "I think…" he added in an almost silent voice, glad the sheet tented across his lap successfully veiled the little 'problem' that had begun to develop whenever he was around the other boy.

Draco smirked broadly, his cocky demeanour entirely unaffected by Harry's protests. He tilted his head slightly to one side, closing what little distance that hung between them to whisper in his ear. "Yes, you are. Now just admit it so we can shag."

Harry shook his head vigorously, his long ebony hair fanning wildly around him. "Never! We… Ugh, never!"

Draco grinned wryly as the soft tresses brushed fleetingly against his face and withdrew from the bed, pulling his arms languidly above his head and stretching out his spine.

"We're going to be late for class," he pointed out matter-of-factly, casting a glance out of the corner of his eye where he saw Potter still plastered against the wall as if an invisible force held him captive there. He turned his slim body to stare directly at the stunned teen. "Or, if you'd rather, I stand by my offer to rape you…"

Harry's eyes widened slightly and twitched undecidedly in his direction, as if unsure they knew where to look.

"Uhn…" he grunted quietly, his brow furrowing in a slightly pained expression. With that utterly eloquent protest, Harry scurried desperately from the bed, stumbling over the sheet still twisted around his body. After a few seconds that seemed like a lifetime, he rushed past Draco, grabbing his robes as he limped from the room.

Draco observed the now closed door quietly for a time then shot a predatory smile at it, Harry's image still burned into his retinas. "Leave them with an erection, that's what I always say…"

With his robes finally in place, Harry stood tensely outside his Herbology classroom as Ravenclaws and Slytherins alike grouped around the door. The day was dazzlingly bright and heat simmered around the air, pressing in on the students with unmerciful cruelness. Yet, despite the blistering sun beating down his neck, Harry drew his robes closer to himself, his eyes shifting around nervously to check and see if anyone noticed him. It didn't occur to the boy-who-conquered that no matter how much he tried to hide his Slytherin house crest, the fact that he was in a class that was singularly for Ravenclaw and Slytherin students had already been perceived by many of the other 7th years.

He saw Draco watching him from the shade of a nearby tree, the gaze making his already sweltering body heat up to the point he felt faint.

"Welcome back, 7th years, good to see you, good to see you," squat Professor Sprout called as she ambled up to them, a clutch of dry, frail looking leaves nestled in her arms. "Alright, alright, everyone inside! We've got a real important lesson today. Someone has misplaced Professor Firenze's stock of mallowsweet and he has a class after lunch."

Harry turned his head away as Professor Sprout brushed past him and only entered after everyone was in the class. He strode purposefully toward the back of the room, weaving in and out of students so quickly they barely had time to register the touch before he was gone. As he passed Draco, he felt a hand reach out and grab his bum roughly. He let out a yelp and turned to shoot a glare at Draco only to find himself face to face with Padma Patil.

She gasped loudly and leaned closer to him, as if to check and see if the light was playing tricks on her.

"Harry?!"

**So, yeah. I'm evil... And purple from the nose up... But at least now you have a chapter. :cough: aftertwentyyearsofabsence :cough cough:**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I do not in any way, shape or form own the Harry Potter franchise or its characters. They belong to a certain J.K Rowling. Any character used in this fan fiction are used purely for fan play and do not reflect upon the actual story in any way nor do they the make any profit for me. The lazy bastards. That being said, the plot _does _belong to myself and hate the HARLOT. The plot is our shiny. If you touch our shiny we will poke you in the eye. Seriously, dude... in the eye. Both of them. And it will hurt. Oh, how it will hurt. Pain. There will be lots of pain. _And yes, I do keep adding to this every chapter._

**Ch. 8 Double the Potions, Double the Fun**

Harry's brilliant green eyes snapped to Padma's with such force he was certain some nerve _must_ have torn in the process. Said eyes widened radically as the full horror of his situation hit him. Draco stood directly behind him, his body close enough it was almost intimate and in front of him waited a thoroughly confused Padma. Harry gulped audibly.

"P-Padma," he stuttered lamely, discretely ramming an elbow into the toned stomach behind him in warning. Draco grunted quietly, but otherwise showed no sign that he had even noticed Harry's less than subtle hint to back off.

"What on earth are you doing here," Padma queried, tilting her head to the side in confusion. Harry searched his mind, desperately scrambling through his disconnected thoughts for some semblance of an excuse for his presence. After a full minute's silence wherein Harry's face had slackened during his struggle for proper thought processes, Draco stepped to Harry's side and draped an arm across his shoulder companionably.

"Dearest Potter here is a Slytherin now," he sneered at the astounded Ravenclaw, his icy eyes daring her to question him like she so desperately wanted to. "Right, Harry," he prompted, nudging the stunned teen's ribs to reclaim his attention.

Instantly, Harry's gaze refocused on Padma's bewildered expression and he paled. A tan hand drifted to the corner of his sleeve and he toyed with it a moment before, however grudgingly, giving a curt nod. Draco let a self-satisfied smirk grace his features at the girl's quiet gasp. She parted her lips hastily, no doubt about to pummel the poor boy with a myriad of questions. However, before she was given the chance to do so, Professor Sprout's abrupt voice cut through the awkward silence that hovered over the three teens and announced that they should get to their stations and begin plucking the dried leaves from their mallowsweet plants. Harry shrugged Draco's arm off forcefully, shooting a death glare at him before making a bee-line to the table furthest from his fellow Slytherin.

Draco followed Harry's trek with his gaze, laughing to himself when the brunette proceeded to mutilate his mallowsweet leaves in disgust.

Harry managed to dump his mallowsweet into Professor Sprout's arms and squeeze out the door without having to face either Draco or Padma, much to his immense relief. Shaking his bangs from his eyes, he glanced up toward the castle and blanched, wondering how it was that he had never noticed the fact that the greenhouses were actually dozens of miles from Hogwarts. He'd never make it. With the hot sun beating down on his panicked form and the ever-growing whispers from the students who filed out of the door behind him, Harry's mind was sapped of many of its more necessary abilities. Like the ability to feel the true extent of horror he should have when a certain blond strode casually up to him and placed that insufferable damn arm over his shoulders _again._ Instead, he gritted his teeth and, with a violent roll of his arm, managed to remove Draco's persistent appendage from contact with his body and set off toward the castle with as much dignity as he could. A dignity that was greatly reduced when Draco's drawling voice called after him, "See you in the dorms, Potter!"

Those who hadn't yet picked up on the whispers that had begun circulating around the greenhouse, and most of those who had, exploded into a raucous chattering, all pretence of subtlety vanishing. Several people attempted to approach Draco and bombard him with questions, only to be put off by a cold glare so biting that it could convert Satan to sainthood. Not discouraged from milking this new bit of gossip in the slightest, the few who had been rejected by Malfoy joined the increasingly large group of people surrounding the original source of the new information: Padma. The Ravenclaw, who seemed to be basking in the sudden attention with the grace of a nuzzler in jewellery store, smiled and winked as if she held some philosophical knowledge on the subject and was coyly refusing to share.

Draco scowled internally at the group of mindless students and pushed a hand into the pocket of his slacks, setting a leisurely pace for the potions room.

~Outside the Potions Classroom~

Harry propped himself against one of the cool walls of the dungeon and bent over in pain, one of his arms clutching at the stitch in his side. In his desperate attempt to put as much distance between himself and Malfoy, the brunet had made a mad dash all the way from the greenhouses to the dungeons in record time. As is was, however, Harry had just barely caught his breath and managed to right himself when his old House Familiars began to file down the steps.

"Harry!" Neville was the first one to see him pressed firmly against a wall with a look of dread across his face. "We all thought you'd left! Where are Ron and Hermione at? Hey..." He cut off his questions abruptly and pointed to the house crest on Harry's breast pocket. "Is that-? Wh-why are you wearing Slytherin robes?" He laughed suddenly as if it were some great joke and soon, the others who had been watching with a mixture of horror and confusion, joined in.

"H-Harry! Harry Potter in Slytherin," Neville laughed in a slightly hysterical voice. "What a gas!"

Right then, Harry would have given anything to sink into the floor and never come up again. He had known that the Slytherin's and the Gryffindor's of his year always had potions together, but in his flight from having to face Draco, he hadn't bothered to prepare himself for what he was going to have to face when he saw his old house mates again. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, absently marking that the laughter in the dark corridors of the dungeon was loud and echoing. He added that to the fact that his brain was oxygen deprived and still aching from bashing his skull into the wall earlier that morning and was fully able to accept the fact that he had a headache that could reduce a lesser man to tears.

"It's not a joke, Neville. I'm a Slytherin now," he stated dully, his voice low.

He had assumed that the clamouring, nervous laughter that bounced like lightning from the walls would drown out his quiet statement, but that wasn't the case at all. The laughter died at once and it seemed, as Harry dove quickly into his story, that a dementor or perhaps even an entire swarm of them, had swept into the dungeons and wiped clean every bit of joy from his friend's faces.

"Merlin, Harry, why would you _do_ that," Seamus asked in a choked voice.

The others all ceased their stressed whispers to gaze at Harry again. He could only stare at them, his eyes travelling from one pinched face to the other as he tried to think of a way to explain to some of the only people he had left in the world that he cared about, the people who had fought in a life and death battle along side him, why he had abandoned them.

By then, the Slytherins had begun to show up and join the crowd that surrounded him. Every face that gaped at him with varying degrees of disgust or shock seemed to blend into the one next to it, causing Harry's headache to worsen. It was odd that even in a situation as stressful as this one, Harry found he was still able to find amusement in the fact that, for once, neither house was paying much attention to weather they stood next to a friend or foe as they all 'eagerly' waited for his answer to that infernal question.

"I-" he began, but was cut off mercifully from his explanation by Professor Slughorn, who had chosen that moment to swing the classroom door open and waddle out.

"Good morning, everyone," he boomed, scanning the dismal or disgusted group, depending, jovially. "Why such long faces? It's a new year; you should all be bursting with anticipation! Come in, come in!" A grin or grimace alternated on his large face as each student was ushered through the door. Slughorn gasped when Harry strode past him, shoulder hunched to hide the crest on his robes. "Harry, m'boy! A Slytherin! What is this? Dear me, dear me, come in!"

The expression on the professor's face was one of pure elation as Harry quickly continued his trek into the room, his stride quick and clipped. _'Great. Just bloody fantastic, really,' _Harry thought ruefully, not bothering to dare and sit with one of his old house mates. Instead, he made his way to a table in the back corner of the room and sat, avoiding the eyes that looked confusedly at him as much as the ones that looked at him with contempt. _'What else is going to go wrong?'_ Harry propped his elbows up on the edge of the table and buried his face in his hands as he waited for the lesson to begin.

A few minutes and a brush of movement later, a torrent of whispers announced the arrival of, literally, the last person he wanted to seen in this world or any other at the moment. Draco sat down next to the sullen boy, his bag making a dull clunking noise as it collided with the hard floor. Grey eyes studied the raven haired boy for a long moment before moving over the cluster of Gryffindors across from him. If he were one inclined to such displays of emotion in public, he would have frowned at them. Instead, he kept his visage void and moved his hand to the boy's leg, resting it low enough on his thigh that maybe, just _maybe_ Harry wouldn't start making a fuss about it. The last thing he needed was detention the first bleedin' day of classes. It was truly the only way he could think of consoling the teen and, hey, if it got him a bit closer to shagging him, that was fine too.

Harry's breath sucked in at the touch, leaving Draco with a smirk that threatened to engulf his face. "Why won't you stop _molesting_ me," Harry hissed angrily, ignoring, to the best of his ability, the hand that was placed almost casually on his leg.

"It's become one of my favourite pastimes," was the ready reply, and he simply slid his hand up, up, up until his palm was pressed firmly against the boy's crotch.

He winced as Harry let out a loud yelp, causing every eye in the room to stare at him.

"That's right, m'boy," Slughorn boomed from the front of the class. "I knew _you'd_ recognize it, Harry!" He beamed at him. "A Heightening Potion!" Harry nodded once at the enthusiastic professor, his expression pained and his hands clamped tightly to the edge of the table.

Draco had to stifle the urge to laugh as Slughorn paused for a dramatic effect, his mind barely noticing what his hand was doing.

"A what," Neville asked when Slughorn didn't speak for several moments.

"A Heightening Potion, boy," he cried, his arms flailing about to add unnecessary emphasis to every word he spoke. When he garnered no response he elaborated, clearly over-joyed at how his first lesson of the year was going. "It makes every touch, every texture, every movement _ultra_ sensitive! You could hold you hand a yard above a candle and feel like you plunged you it into the very fires of hell! It was first invited in 1412 by a German wizard named Ignatz Stryker as a means to make torture more effective. Now, Ignatz was..."

Draco drifted off as the professor rambled on, his attention now focused on a much more interesting target. Harry's face had turned a fantastic shade of crimson and he was glaring (as much as one _can_ glare while being cross-eyed) at Malfoy even as his body shook violently and his breath came out in short gasps. Luckily, this was masked by Slughorn's deep booming voice as he wrote ingredients, dates, and general history on the blackboard.

"Malfoy," he growled, attempting to slide his hips backwards in the chair to escape the touch as he regained his previously shock-impaired motor functions.

Draco shot Harry a side-ways look, apparently absorbed in what Professor Slughorn was teaching. "Quiet, Potter, some of us are trying to _learn_." He punctuated the last word with a particularly insistent press against the large bulge that strained at the material of Harry's black slacks.

Harry sucked his breath in sharply at the movement and tried to push the hand away, only to find he didn't have to strength is his current state to do so. "You can learn _without_ touching me, Malfoy, so move your fucking hand!" The last word was loud enough that it gathered the interest of a few of the student's around him but, blessedly, wasn't head by Professor Slughorn who was still rambling enthusiastically at the front of the class room.

Draco wasn't an idiot, and he knew when he had to back off. All in the sense of self preservation, of course. If Harry continued to make such a fuss, Draco could wind up getting in trouble and that simply could not happen. So with that in mind, he gave Harry one final, lingering massage and removed his hand, instead using it to pull out parchment and a quill to jot down the ever-growing contents on the board.

"Now, the Heightening Potion is a particularly difficult one, one that takes weeks of preparation, and that's _with_ the use of an ageing spell. Because of the complexity of the potion, I've reserved it only for those of you that have decided to pursue your N.E.W.T's in potions, otherwise, I'm afraid there's no way you could ever possibly do it..." Somewhere in the back of the room, Neville whimpered. "You'll each need to find a partner to work with for this lesson and that is the person you'll be staying with until the potion is completed. Now, since today's lesson is a double one, I think we've got just enough time to add the first four ingredients. Afterwards, you will need to perform an ageing spell on the potion for precisely eleven days. You'll know you've done it when the potion turns a pale, sultry golden hue." He waved his wand at the board and it replaced the history of the Heightening Potion and Ignatz Stryker's methods of torture with a list of the four ingredients they would need to add before the class was over: lovage leaves (.6 oz),runespoor eggs (1 1/4), aged bicorn fur (1 oz), and erumpent tail (3).

The rest of the class went by quietly, and Draco kept his hands to himself and behaved, even going so far as to be civil in working with Harry on the potion. Well, sort of.

"Potter, if you add so much as one of those erumpent tails to that potion before I stir it, I will personally see to it that you never walk again," Draco admonished quickly as Harry went to tip the contents into the cauldron too early. Harry frowned, looking back up at the board to re-read the instructions. Instead of arguing over Malfoy's threat he merely sat back down, looking dazed. He hadn't even bothered to protest when Draco announced that they would be partnering up for the project. Nor did he put forth the effort to look properly disgusted at the way Draco had emphasized the word partnering with a look so perverse it should be banned from existence.

When the bell rang to signal the end of the class, Harry grabbed his things quickly and fled the room before anyone else had a chance to, despite his distance from the door. He'd thought Malfoy was enough to deal with, but after catching the look in Professor Slughorn's eye as he stared at Harry with an almost greedy expression on his face, Harry had gathered his things together and packed their ingredients up long before the bell rang to hasten his escape and avoid having to talk to him.

Draco once again watched Harry's retreating back as he all but ran from his presence, a smug look on his sharp face. He packed his things with less urgency and headed to his Defence Against the Dark Arts class, lamenting the fact that he'd have to spend a period away from his new favorite toy, as Harry was in the second Slytherin group to participate in D.A.D.A. This was due to the overwhelming number of students added to the seventh year roster from the class that had lost its chance to graduate during the war.

On his way to leave the classroom, Draco noticed a series of indents on the wooden table they had used in the shape of two hands and let a devious smile grace his features. Who knew Potter had such a good grip?

By lunch it was all over the school that Harry Potter was now a Slytherin. When he entered the Great Hall, a hush the likes of which he hadn't experienced since everyone thought he'd put his name into the Goblet of Fire illegally fell over the hundreds of bodies in the room. Even the teachers were silent as they stared at him. Harry took a few steps forward toward the Gryffindor table, his steps echoing loudly in the cavernous room, before he caught himself and turned to face the Slytherin table. The menacing faces of his new house leered and a few students patted the seats beside themselves in mock welcome. Every eye was trained on him as he hesitated, completely unsure of what to do.

From the very end of the Slytherin table, Draco stared at him from between the shoulders of two moderately attractive fourth years, a feeling that was nothing at all like concern welling up in him at the indecision on his toy's face. He was milliseconds away from dragging him over to sit next to him when he caught himself and forced his attention elsewhere, only glancing up when a flurry of whispers announced that Harry had left the great hall.

As the silence had dragged on, Harry was forced to make a decision and wipe all traces of emotion from his face. His shoulders thrown back proudly, he had turned and quietly exited the great hall to visit the kitchens. The brief quietness that he had instilled upon the hall died with a sudden explosion of loud chattering that reached Harry even though he was halfway down the stairs the led to the kitchens when it happened.

He trudged forward silently, not passing anyone on his way, until he reached the giant painting of various fruits that marked the entrance to Hogwart's kitchens. He stepped forward and tickled the pear. It giggled and the painting swung forward, letting out a burst of food scented air that hit Harry's senses and caused his breakfast- deprived stomach to clench painfully. Six pairs of huge eyes that ranged anywhere from moss green to mud brown stared at him and rushed forward, their owners bowing low to Harry as he entered.

The steaming room and its tiny occupants caused a deep ache in Harry's chest as he thought of Dobby and his sacrifice in helping Harry to defeat the Dark Lord. He placed the tops of his knuckles on his over his chest and rubbed his sternum in an attempt to alleviate the pain. He asked for some food awkwardly and shook his head as four the house elves rushed to gather his food while the other two offered him tea while he waited. When elves had returned with a small ham, two loaves of bread, and a small basket of fruit, Harry accepted it hurriedly, thanked them, and rushed from the room. It's steamy atmosphere and delicious smells unknowingly surfaced a myriad of excruciating memories for Harry and he had no choice but to escape or be drug down by them.

Knowing that he couldn't return to the great hall for fear of being a school freak show again, Harry headed to the seventh floor to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach ballet to trolls and paced back and forth three times thinking _'somewhere to just be alone.... somewhere to just be alone.... somewhere to just be alone' _until a plain wooden door popped up on the blank stretch of wall. Harry tucked the bread under his arm to free a hand and opened the Room of Requirement, revealing a single blank room with a lone table and chair in the center of it. He stepped in and set his food onto the table, staring around the room that held no traces of the devastating cursed fire that had destroyed half of it and ended Vincent Crabbe's life. Harry shuddered at the memory and sat on the plain wooden chair, reaching to grab a loaf of bread and tear a decent hunk out of it with his teeth.

Was this what he was going to be reduced to for the rest of his life? Being a recluse from everyone and everything, hiding away in rooms of death and bad memories just to eat? The word 'death' flashed boldly across his thoughts as the faces of all who had died in helping him defeat the Dark Lord danced across his vision in a macabre performance. Spurred by the lingering emotions at seeing the school kitchens again, Harry's face crumpled and the tucked into himself, trying to doge the pain of thinking of all those he had lost. Dobby, Fred, Sirius, Cedric, Dumbledore, Snape, Tonks, and Lupin. At the mention of the last two, his thoughts drifted to his godchild that he had left in the care of Ron and Hermione and felt a stirring of guilt. He hadn't written them since his arrival. He wasn't about to let Teddy go through what he did with the Dursleys. He wouldn't let him grow up thinking the people who were supposed to love him didn't. He would make sure that he had a good life surrounded by people who cared for him. With this resolution in mind, Harry took a deep breath, hurriedly finished as much as he could of his meal, then raced from the room of requirement to the owlery where he sent a short letter explaining his re-sorting and all that had happened that day and a vow to get permission to leave the grounds soon to visit Teddy.

As the school owl flew into the noon sun (Harry winced at the thought of Hedwig) he felt the beginning of the only solid emotion he'd had in months as he vowed silently to himself to make the life of his godchild a better one than he had had and, in doing so, slowly try to heal some of the damage that he had done in being the cause of the war that killed them.

**That's all I can get out for this chapter, kiddies, but I'll do my best to get another one up soon. I realize that I've been dragging out this first day for waaaay too long, but I've got the layout for the next chapter planned and it'll finally be the end of the first day. The reason I'm paying so much attention and dedicating so much effort to this relatively small amount of time is because, for the sake of moving the plot forward to the part of this story that's really juicy, I'm going to have to be very vague with day-to-day activities after this. There will be a lot of ellipses following the completion of the next chapter and I thought it only fair that I at least sort of go through and put some effort into the first day that holds so much significance for Harry. His first day as a Slytherin, facing his house mates and trying to explain why he chose to be resorted, his first time having to face Draco after he half-molested him, meeting Slughorn as a Slytherin, finding out who the new DADA teacher is; it's a big-ass day! **

**So... I hope I haven't bored you to tears with the two long freakin' author's notes, but I feel like I owe an explanation for some of the things I'm doing or have done. I know, I'm a freak. You don't have to tell me. **

**Now, for a fun part! I'm going to be adding these to all of the chapters from here on and I may even go back and add them to the earlier chapters. They're called Sizaki's Secrets~**

***Something that no one really knows is that in the original story that hate the HARLOT and I did, the encounter in the potions class was supposed to Harry's first class of the new year, but I put a Herbology lesson that I wrote on my own in to help add a bit of meat to the story. There's your secret ^_^***


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